


Welcome To The Party

by flawedamythyst



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: An Unbelievable Amount Of Rainbows, Bisexual Tony Stark, Glitter, M/M, New York Pride March
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 12:55:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11990235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flawedamythyst/pseuds/flawedamythyst
Summary: Tony and Clint take Bucky to his first Pride, where there is glitter, multi-coloured drinks, and unexpected revelations.Thanks to 1electricpirate and Nny.





	Welcome To The Party

Bucky was stopped dead in the middle of the lounge, staring at the TV, when Tony wandered in from the workshop, absently wiping the oil on his hands onto his t-shirt. The shell-shocked look on his face was enough to make Tony glance at the screen, because he’d never seen anything even close to that look on Bucky’s face before. He was a little concerned it meant the seas had parted to reveal an entire civilisation made up of cannibalistic carebears, or he’d discovered Monty Python or something.

On screen, a news anchor was talking over images of a Pride parade. Crowds were waving rainbow flags as a drag queen dressed as a multi-coloured Statue of Liberty waved to them; a float packed with shirtless, gyrating men and balloons passed by; a trio of women jumped and cheered, arms wrapped around each other and draped with rainbow-coloured streamers and more beads than Tony would have thought the human body could support; and then two men shared a long, dramatic kiss, glitter raining around them.

“Oh right, Chicago’s Pride was today,” he said.

Bucky spun and stared at him as if he hadn’t realised he was there, which was bullshit. There was no way in hell he was ever unaware of someone entering a room he was in. 

“Pride,” he repeated, blankly.

“Yeah,” agreed Tony. The poleaxed look was still on Bucky’s face so he clarified. “Y’know, Gay Pride. Big party thrown by the queer community as both a celebration of how awesome we are and a fuck you to the haters.” 

The look on Bucky’s face didn’t change as he turned back to stare at the TV. A troop of LGBT+ cops were marching on the screen, waving to the crowd. Behind them, Tony could see a balloon arch in the colours of the transgender flag.

Steve came in from the kitchen carrying a couple of mugs of coffee and paused when he took in Bucky’s tense shoulders and intense stare. He glanced at Tony, who gave him a shrug. 

“Didn’t they mention the gay rights thing to you when they were catching you up on the modern world?” Tony asked Bucky.

Bucky shook his head. “They didn’t mention there was a damn party,” he said, then turned an accusing glare at Steve. “You didn’t tell me.”

Oh man, was Bucky about to have some kinda homophobic fit all over the place? Because Tony had been up for thirty hours and was too damned tired for that crap right now.

“I told you the laws changed, and people were able to be open about it now,” said Steve. He glanced at the screen, then blinked several times as he caught a glimpse of a gang of topless women who had painted various LGBT designs over their chests. Ah yes, Captain America’s Achilles’ heel: unexpected public nudity.

“‘Able to be open’ is very different to throwing a damn party!” snapped Bucky, gesturing at the TV again. “It’s not like you gave me any more damn details than that!”

Steve’s eyes narrowed into a glare. “It’s not like you ever gave any indication that you’d _want_ any more details,” he said. “I mean, I didn’t give you a full rundown on women’s rights or black rights or any of the other stuff.”

“Yeah, but-” said Bucky, then broke off and made a frustrated arm gesture. “Oh, fuck you, Rogers.”

There was a footstep behind Tony and he glanced over to see Clint had come in, which meant he’d made enough noise for Tony to hear him on purpose. He raised an eyebrow in question at Tony.

“Bucky just discovered Gay Pride,” he explained. “He seems kinda worked up about it, but I haven’t worked out why yet.”

Clint looked over at Bucky and Tony saw his shoulders tense up. Oh man, this was going to be tricky. Clint and Bucky had become firm friends in the short time Bucky had been at the Tower and if it turned out that Bucky was a homophobic asshole, it was going to hurt Clint a lot more than it was Tony. Tony already had a bunch of complicated emotions about Bucky, after all.

Bucky glanced over at them, his gaze lingering for a moment on Clint, then he went back to glaring at Steve. “You shoulda _told_ me.”

Steve set the mugs down onto a table so that he could fold his arms. “Maybe you shoulda given me a clue that you wanted to know,” he said. They were doing the thing where they stared at each other and clearly had about fourteen conversations just with their eyes, conversations that Tony didn’t have a hope of hacking into. “Because I left you an opening, hell, I’ve left you a hundred openings over the years, and you’ve never taken any of them.”

It was a good thing Bucky didn’t have any kind of pyrokinetic powers, because Tony’s whole penthouse would be on fire right now, if the glare he was levelling at Steve was anything to go by.

There was an awkwardly tense stand-off where they both just stared and Tony wondered if he should be backing out of the room. Not that there was any way in hell he ever would, not when something this interesting was happening. He spared Clint a glance and saw he was just as focused on how this went down.

Given the superhuman levels of stubborn that Steve had going on, it was no real surprise that Bucky caved first. He made a frustrated growl, ran a violent hand through his hair and blurted out, “Fuck you, Stevie. You shoulda told me there was a god-damn party for fellas who like other fellas because-” His voice broke for a moment but he barrelled on, hands clenching into fists as if he were going to have to fight his way out of the conversation, “because I’m one of them.”

There was a heartbeat of silence and then Steve’s face broke out into a smile. Tony heard Clint let out a very long breath of what sounded like relief and glanced at him again, but Clint wasn’t letting anything show on his face right now so he looked back at the main show instead.

“Is that right?” said Steve, picking up the coffee again and passing one of the mugs to Bucky, who just stared at it dumbly. “Man, if only you’d mentioned it earlier. I’ve got a couple of books and a folder of articles on my server that you might be interested in. Hey, JARVIS, will you open that up for Bucky’s access?”

“Of course, Captain,” said JARVIS. 

Tony couldn’t keep himself from snorting, which earned him a glare from Bucky, but compared to his one at Steve earlier it was barely lukewarm, so he ignored it.

“Is there coffee left in the pot?” he asked Steve, continuing his interrupted journey to the kitchen.

“Yeah, plenty,” said Steve.

Tony took his life in his hands as he passed Bucky and patted his shoulder. “Congrats on coming out,” he said. “Welcome to the club, and if you think that party looks good, you should wait and see the one we’re having in New York next week.”

“We?” repeated Bucky.

“I’m bisexual,” Tony called over his shoulder as he went into the kitchen. “Clint, do you want cof-”

“Yes!” called Clint, without letting him finish. That figured.

As he poured a couple of mugs, he heard Bucky ask Steve, in a voice he probably thought Tony couldn’t hear, “Bisexual?”

“Means he likes guys and dames. There’s a glossary in the folder,” said Steve and Tony snickered to himself. Of course there was, and probably an alphabetised list of contents and a file of notes Steve had made while reading.

“If it helps, I’m just straight-up gay,” said Clint, just in time for Tony to come out the kitchen and see Bucky’s almost comic reaction to that. “Well, not _straight_ -up, obviously.”

Bucky stared at him, then back around at Tony. “Both of you?”

“Yep,” said Tony as Clint gratefully took the coffee from him. “We’re everywhere.”

“You’re not alone,” added Clint, in a quieter voice, then he gestured at the TV. “That’s kinda the point of the party.”

The TV was now showing a piece about a senator’s dodgy campaign finances, but Bucky didn’t glance over at it. He met Clint’s eyes for a long moment, then nodded. “Yeah, okay,” he said and, wow, that was a definite moment. Tony glanced at Steve to see if he’d noticed as well, but he was still just grinning at Bucky as if he was a toddler walking for the first time.

“We should go,” said Tony before the idea had even fully formed in his mind. “Oh, oh yes, best plan, Clint, we should take him to Pride.”

Clint blinked and then grinned. “Yes, of course,” he said, then looked at Bucky. “I mean, if you’re up for being that out. Telling a couple of friends is different to waving a banner.”

Bucky didn’t look sure about that, so Tony shook his head. “No, no, we won’t bother with banners or marching, keep things low-key, just hide in the crowd so he can get an idea of what things are like these days.”

“Low-key,” said Bucky, slowly. “You mean, just watching?”

“Exactly,” said Tony, giving him finger guns. “You can scope it out, see what kinda things are going on, develop a healthy fear of glitter-”

“Glitter is fucking awesome,” interrupted Clint, then looked back at Bucky. “What do you say? I was going to go anyway, I’d be up for showing you the ropes at the same time.”

Bucky took a moment to think it over, then nodded, glancing at Steve. “Yeah, okay. I think I’d like that.”

Clint beamed. “Awesome.”

****

For all of Tony’s flamboyance and showmanship, his brightly coloured cars and fancy gadgets, his actual wardrobe was pretty conservative. Clint had pretty much only seen him in the old band shirts he wore in his workshop or one of his endless stream of expensive suits, so he wasn’t incredibly surprised to find out that his idea of a Pride outfit was suit pants and a white shirt. His only real nod to the festive mood was a rainbow-striped tie, but even that somehow managed to be tasteful. Clint had to keep in a sigh, because Pride was not about tasteful.

“Jesus Christ,” said Tony, taking in Clint’s outfit. “I see you’re intent on living the stereotype.”

“And you’re intent on being boring as hell,” said Clint, grinning. 

“He looks fine,” said Pepper, smoothing down Tony’s shirt over his shoulders. “He looks like he’s not going to cause a media frenzy.” She fixed Tony with a firm look. “Right?”

“Scout’s honour,” said Tony, far too easily for Clint to be convinced. From the look on Pepper’s face, she thought the same.

“Just, nothing I’m going to get phone calls about,” she said. “Please.”

Tony pressed a kiss to her lips. “I can’t always predict what people are going to give a shit about, but I will try.”

“That’s all I can ask,” said Pepper as Bucky and Steve came in. 

Bucky stopped dead when he saw Clint.

Clint beamed at him and did a pose. “What do you think?”

Bucky just stared, then slowly shook his head, glancing at Steve as if looking for strength. “You’re really going out like that?”

“Oh yeah,” said Clint. “And I’ll blend right in, you’ll see.” He took in Bucky’s dark jeans and grey Henley. He looked good, of course, because he always looked good, but it lacked the pizazz that Clint felt he was bringing to the party. “You and Tony are the ones not conforming to the dress code.”

“If that’s the alternative,” said Bucky with a gesture that took in Clint’s extremely short cut-off shorts, rainbow belt, skin-tight purple sleeveless t-shirt and, for some reason, his battered old Converse, “then I’m totally okay with that.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “You need at least something,” he said, and pulled off one of the rainbow-striped wristbands he was wearing. “Here.”

For a moment he thought Bucky was going to refuse it, but he glanced at Tony’s tie and then took it. “I guess if there’s a uniform,” he said, and pulled it on his wrist.

Clint grinned. “It’s all about showing your true colours.”

“Who knew my true colours included purple?” muttered Bucky. For some reason, that made Steve snigger.

“All the cool kids wear purple,” said Clint.

“Speaking as a guy who’s been on GQ’s Best Dressed list for pretty much the whole of the last two decades,” said Tony, “I can assure you that that is not true.”

Clint made a rude noise. “For wearing suits,” he muttered. “Suits are dull as fuck.”

“The one thing that can’t be said about that outfit is that it’s dull,” agreed Steve. “What’s your plan?” he asked Tony, as if this was a combat mission. Clint had a feeling that what he really meant was, ‘how are you going to make sure Bucky doesn’t freak the fuck out at some point?’ From the look on Bucky’s face, he knew that as well. Clint gave him a commiserating eye roll.

“I know a guy with a cafe that’s got a balcony on the parade route,” said Tony. “He’s keeping a table free for us, so we’re up out of the way of the crowds and can get a great view.”

Steve nodded. “Sounds good.” He looked at Bucky. “You know, I could come.”

“Nope,” said Clint. “No offence, Steve, but you’re too straight for this party.”

“Next year, we’ll do a thing,” said Tony. “An Avengers thing. Get a float, get everyone on it, put you in something skintight and glittery-”

“Not happening,” said Steve. Tony ignored him.

“- waving a straight ally flag and make a party of it. This year, though, we’re gonna take it easy, yeah?” He glanced over at Bucky. “Keep the party just for us.”

Steve nodded but he didn’t look happy. Bucky patted at his chest. “No need to be my nanny, I’m a big boy.”

“Besides, he’s got me to nanny him,” said Clint. “I’m a mature and responsible adult.”

For some reason, that made everyone laugh. Clint tried not to take it to heart.

****

They were a lot earlier than Clint usually bothered turning up, but the crowds were already gathering. Tony wound through them with Clint on his heels and Bucky bringing up the rear, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched over as he took it all in. He looked like he was already finding the whole thing kinda overwhelming, so Clint made sure to step between him and anyone who might look twice, keeping all the attention that Tony Stark’s face didn’t suck up squarely on him.

This was exactly why he’d dressed like he had. Pride sometimes got a bit like a meat market, and even with Bucky dressed as he was, he was still pretty much the hottest guy on the street. Clint didn’t want to see what happened if he started getting a barrage of come ons, or if someone decided to brave the murder glare and get handsy.

He’d take all that attention on himself, for the good of the team. Because he was totally selfless like that.

“Hey, hot stuff,” said a guy wearing nothing but underwear and what had to be a pimp’s hat from the 70s, complete with enormous feather. 

Clint grinned at him. “Happy Pride,” he said.

The guy curled a hand around Clint’s biceps, looking impressed. “It definitely is now,” he said, and leaned in for a kiss, slow enough that Clint could have ducked away if he wanted.

He didn’t. He moved right into it, getting an arm around the guy’s shoulders so that he could feel the shift of his back muscles.

The guy was grinning as he pulled back. “Hey, any chance of getting your number?”

“Nope,” said Clint, tweaked his hat, and slipped away back after Tony and Bucky.

Bucky was staring at him. “Really? That guy?”

“This may shock you,” said Tony, “but Hawkeye is actually kinda slutty.”

“Fuck you, Stark,” said Clint, cheerfully, sending finger guns at three guys and a girl across the street who were waving a banner that proclaimed _Taste The Rainbow!_. “I’m nowhere near as bad as you were in your manwhore days.”

Tony shrugged. “I was usually drunk.”

“Drunk!” said Clint, snapping his fingers. “Yes! That needs to happen today. Please tell me this cafe place has booze.”

“Of course,” said Tony. “Who do you take me for?”

Bucky sighed. “Don’t know why Steve thought I’d need a babysitter when I’m going to end up taking care of you two alcoholic disasters.”

“I object to the term ‘disaster’,” said Clint. “I’m a mishap at best.”

“You’re a fucking catastrophe,” muttered Bucky. Clint tried to ignore the warm glow that gave him.

“Tony Stark?” called a voice. “Tony! Tony Stark!”

Clint glanced over to see a reporter heading for them, followed by a cameraman.

Tony let out a long sigh, then pinned on his media relations smile as he turned to greet her. “Hey, Marissa! Who did you piss off to end up with this gig?”

Her smile didn’t even waver. “No one. I love reporting these kinds of events.”

Yeah, if that was true, Clint was a Japanese opera singer. Man, that had been a messed up mission.

“I wonder if you’d mind going on camera, saying a few words?” she added, holding up a microphone.

Tony grinned back with just as much genuine pleasure. “Of course, no problem. Be glad to.”

Clint noticed Bucky quietly stepping back out of frame as the cameraman raised his camera. He stepped in to stand next to Tony and block Bucky off further.

Marissa blinked at him for a moment, eyes lingering on his biceps for a moment before they made it to his face and her eyes widened in surprise. “Hawkeye! I didn’t know you were...um.”

She stalled and Clint let his grin grow a bit wider. “So built?” he suggested. “This hot in a pair of shorts? Allowed out of the Tower without supervision?”

Tony snorted. “You are being supervised, I thought we just covered that.”

“Okay, I’m ready,” said the cameraman, and Marissa turned to him with a white-toothed smile.

“Hi! I’m joining you from Manhattan, where things are starting to hot up in anticipation of New York’s Pride March, and I’ve just run into two of my favourite superheroes.”

Right, Clint totally believed that he was one of her favourites. Everyone loved the guy who stood at the back with a bow and arrow and had no special powers or fancy gadgets.

Marissa turned back to Tony. “Tony Stark, I know this isn’t your first Pride, but it’s been a few years since we’ve seen you here. What brought you out today?”

“More like, what kept me from coming out the last few years,” said Tony. “I’ve had a bad run of being in another country, or having to beat up neo-Nazis, or double-booking myself.”

“So, it’s not related to being settled down with Pepper Potts then,” said Marissa, with a raised eyebrow.

Tony rolled his eyes. “I swear to God, Marissa, if you’re going to pull that ‘you’re not bi any more because you got in a straight relationship’ crap, I’m gonna-”

“No, no, of course not,” said Marissa, backpedalling like a pro. “Everyone’s really pleased to see you here.”

“Damn right,” said Tony. “When was anyone ever not pleased to see me?”

Clint had been doing his best to just stand there looking blandly happy, with the PR-approved ‘waiting to be interviewed’ expression he’d spent years working on, but he couldn’t keep in a laugh at that. “I can think of ten people in the last week alone,” he said. “Wait, no, thirteen.”

Tony dug and elbow into his side. “Oh sure, and you can talk, Hawkeye.”

“Sure,” said Clint, grinning at him, then glancing across to the crowd who had started to gather when they saw the interview. At some point the guy in the pimp hat had joined it and was watching with a slightly shocked expression that meant he hadn’t realised who he’d been kissing until just now. 

“Hey, you’re all pleased to see me, right?!” he called to them, and got a chorus of cheers. It was a bit half-hearted though, probably because it was still too early for anyone to be properly in the Pride mood, by which, of course, he meant drunk.

“Oh, you can do better than that!” he called. “C’mon, it’s Pride! We’re all pleased to see each other, right? All of us out here making our statement to the world!” And then, because he wasn’t above cheap tricks to make his point, he grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it off over his head. “Are you pleased to see me now?!” he shouted, and got a much louder cheer, accompanied by applause, wolf whistles and at least one shout of, “Take it all off!”

“Wow, okay,” said Marissa, laughing along. “I have to say I’m pleased to have seen that, certainly.”

Clint beamed at her, then turned his grin on Tony and let it go smug, because there was no way Tony could one-up him without breaking his promise to Pepper not to create media drama.

Tony rolled his eyes. “Such a damn diva,” he muttered.

“Takes one to know one,” said Clint, tucking his shirt into his back pocket. He caught sight of Bucky staring at him and gave him a wink. There was no real reason for him to be staring, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen Clint shirtless plenty of times before, when they all changed into their combat gear in front of each other.

Maybe he hadn’t been expecting all the glitter.

“So, Hawkeye, what’s made you decide to come out now?” asked Marissa, and Clint’s attention was abruptly pulled back to the interview.

“What?” he said. “Oh man, you are kidding, right? I’ve been out since I was a teenager, this isn’t me coming out. Hell, I’ve probably been to more Pride marches that Tony, I’m just better at not being noticed-”

“Because most people don’t have the faintest clue who you are,” put in Tony.

Clint waved that away. “My point is, this is hardly me coming out, and if you guys all think it is,” he said, with a vague gesture that he meant to take in all the media and not just Marissa and her cameraman, “it’s because you didn’t bother asking me about my lovelife and then made a bunch of heteronormative assumptions. I’m not going to wear a damn badge, or announce it at the beginning of every conversation just to clear things up for you.”

Marissa cleared her throat, looking awkward as hell. “Right, of course not,” she said. “So, can I ask about your lovelife, then? Are you seeing anyone at the moment?”

“Nope,” said Clint, “but I’m single, shirtless and at Pride, so anything could have happened by the end of the day.” He sent an exaggerated wink at the crowd and got another cheer. Oh yeah, he was the best, he was totally going to get laid tonight. 

He glanced at Bucky again, unable to keep down the hope that he’d been trying to bury ever since Bucky’s unexpected revelation the other day. Hell, even before that, although it had been so much easier when he’d been assuming that Bucky was straight. (Yes, exactly like he’d just called the media out for doing to him, no one ever said he wasn’t a hypocrite.)

He couldn’t quite read the look on Bucky’s face but it wasn’t encouraging. Eh, who was Clint kidding, it was going to take a lot more than being the right sexuality for someone like Bucky Barnes to be interested in someone like him.

“Okay, well, good luck,” said Marissa, still grinning so widely that she looked slightly insane. “I hope you both have a great time here today!”

“I guess that depends on how much more of Clint’s clothing he decides to whip off,” said Tony.

Clint grinned back at him, then turned to give the camera a double thumbs up. There was a beat, then the cameraman turned the camera off and Marissa let her grin die away.

“Thanks, guys,” she said. “That was great.”

Bucky stalked over as soon as the camera was pointed down. “ _Not such a straight shooter_?” he asked, in incredulous tones.

Clint glanced down at the words spelt out in purple glitter on his chest. “Yeah, I figured that basically covered it, right?”

Bucky made a frustrated noise.

“Hey, you’re not jealous are you?” asked Clint. “Cuz, I bet we could find some glitter around here someplace, glam you up a bit-”

“No,” growled Bucky.

Marissa was eyeing him with a look that said she’d just worked out who he was and was trying not to wet herself with glee at having a triple Avenger scoop. “Uh, is there any chance…?” she started, fingers clenching around the mic again.

The scorching glare Bucky gave her killed the words in her throat and for a moment Clint thought she was going to wet herself for a completely different reason. He jabbed Bucky with his elbow. “Dude, chill,” he muttered.

Bucky let up on the glare until it was nothing more than a frown. Marissa started to breathe again. “Nope,” he said.

She nodded several times too many. “Okay, fine, no problem, totally understandable.”

“That’s enough scaring the normals, Barnes,” said Tony, slapping an arm around Bucky’s shoulders and then quickly removing it when Bucky turned his glare on him. “C’mon, let’s get going before Clint’s fanclub over there decides to attack.”

Clint looked back at the crowd and grinned at them. “Happy Pride!” he called out, and got another cheer. 

Tony took his shoulder and pushed him on down the street. “Jesus, do you want to start a riot?”

Clint shrugged, but let himself be moved along. “I mean, if it’s a riot over my sexy, sexy body, sure?” he glanced back at the crowd, who were still watching them, half of them with their phones out taking photos. “Remember, every gay kiss is another pissed off Hydra agent!” he called back to them, raising his fist.

More cheers, followed by half the crowd starting to make out.

“Oh, oh!” said Clint, turning to Bucky and Tony. “We should have an anti-Hydra kiss-in next time they turn up!”

Bucky started to say something, then stopped, frowned and said, in a slow voice, “Actually, that _would_ really piss them off. It would definitely work as a distraction.”

“We should mention it to Steve as a diversionary tactic,” said Clint. And who were the only two single gay guys on the team? Oh, so sad, Clint would have to kiss Bucky for the greater good.

****

The cafe Tony took them to looked more like a bar to Bucky, which didn’t entirely surprise him. It was already filling up with people, many of them dressed even more outlandishly than the people they’d been passing in the street. Bucky was beginning to see what Clint had meant earlier about Bucky sticking out in just jeans and a shirt.

That didn’t mean he was ever going to wander around the streets in a tiny pair of shorts and a shit-ton of glitter. He was perfectly happy to leave that to Clint, especially if it meant he got to look at him while he did so.

“Tony Stark!” called a voice from somewhere in the crowded cafe, and a short, round man pushed his way through. “You honour my humble establishment!”

“You’re damn right I do,” said Tony, grinning at him over his sunglasses. “How’s it going, George?”

“Excellent, excellent,” said George, waving his arms to take in the crowd. “Look at all these lovely people!”

Tony glanced around with an arched eyebrow that made clear his feelings about the loveliness of the people.

“I’ve got a great table for you,” said George. “Come on, come on, this way.” He waved them through the crowd and up a narrow flight of stairs to a cramped mezzanine that opened out onto a balcony. It was just large enough for four small tables, three of which were pushed together at one end of the balcony with a noisy group clustered around it. The other was behind a rope and clearly waiting for them.

“Don’t mind this group of reprobates,” said George as he unhooked the rope for them to sit down. “They’re up here to keep them out of the way of polite society.”

“That’s basically why we’re here too,” said Clint, waving Bucky in so that he could take the corner seat, furthest away from the strangers and with the best view of the street below.

It was the little things like that, tiny ways in which Clint put others first without even really seeming to notice, that had spelled out Bucky’s doom. How the hell was he meant to avoid crushing on a guy who happily put himself between Bucky and the nightmare of social interaction?

“Okay,” said George, clapping his hands. “What do you want? Coffee? Soda? Beer? George’s Marvellous Pride Punch?”

Clint’s eyes lit up. “Pride Punch?”

“Yep,” said George. “Comes in every colour of the rainbow, thanks to the miracle of food colouring.” The other table held up their drinks, which Bucky saw were a range of bright colours, all with umbrellas and tiny paper flags in.

“Oh man, I’ll have a purple one,” said Clint.

“Bit early, isn’t it?” asked Bucky.

Clint snorted. “Not on Pride. C’mon, live a little.”

Bucky eyed the drinks again. “Do they taste how they look?”

“Pretty much,” said a woman with bright pink hair and a feather boa. She grinned at him, and Bucky could see her mouth had been stained green by her drink.

“I’ll have a beer,” he said, firmly.

Clint rolled his eyes. “Boring,” he muttered.

Bucky shrugged. “Yeah, well, I’m an old guy. What’re you expecting?”

“I guess I’m an old guy too,” said Tony, “cuz I’ll have the same.”

Clint tutted, shaking his head sadly. “You guys...I’m just going to have to drink enough punch for all three of us.”

It was going to be a very long day.

****

Bucky had never been that much of a fan of parades, even before crowds made him twitchy, so he hadn’t really figured he was going to enjoy the actual march much. It turned out he hadn’t factored in how it would feel to be able to see guys like him gyrating in very little clothing and celebrating something he’d thought he’d spend his whole life hiding.

Sure, there was more to it than that, and even with all the research he’d spent the week doing there were things he didn’t understand. Why did the guy with the terrifying black and white facepaint and the top hat get such a loud cheer? Why the hell did so many corporations have people marching? Surely sexuality wasn’t a business thing?

George gave up on keeping everyone’s drinks topped up about twenty minutes in and settled into the lap of a tall, bearded guy instead, one arm draped casually around his shoulders. The guy put an arm around George’s waist to steady him, then sent a piercing whistle down at a float of guys wearing tiny trunks and angel wings, and throwing handfuls of condoms into the crowd.

For all the loud, flashy statements on display in the parade, Bucky had a feeling it was that moment that was going to stick with him. Neither of them had even thought twice about it, acting with the casual familiarity that meant they’d done it a hundred times before, without ever having to worry about the reactions around them.

Bucky pulled his gaze away before they noticed him watching and stared down at the troop of flag-waving pilots going past. He thought about what it would be like to be able to pull a guy he liked down onto his lap if there weren’t enough chairs, getting to hold onto him while no one batted an eyelid.

Clint shifted forward to see something better, elbow knocking against Bucky’s arm, and just like that, Bucky lost his usual control over the images he allowed himself and it was Clint sitting in his lap, heavy and warm and grinning with pleasure.

“You really think we should have an Avengers float next year?” Clint asked Tony, and Bucky pushed the idea away.

“Sure,” said Tony. “I mean, why not? Especially if we can get Steve into short shorts. I mean, it’s pretty much the uniform for this thing, right? He’s a soldier, he’s all about uniforms.”

“I think he’s gonna take a bit more convincing than that,” said Clint. “I’m not saying it’s impossible, just gonna take a bit of work.”

Bucky considered that for a moment, then turned to Clint. He put on his very best, _I’ve been through some bad shit, and some days I’m barely holding on_ expression and said, “Please, Stevie, it would mean so much to me to know that you completely supportive, especially with how things were when we were kids.” He lowered his eyes and let some of his hair swing in front of his face, adding a touch of _pensive melancholy_. “Unless you’re not completely with us. I guess it is all very different, must be hard to adjust to.”

Clint blinked at him, then glanced over at Tony. “I changed my mind, it’s not going to take any work. No way he’d say no to that look.”

Bucky gave him a smug grin. “I’ve been talking Steve into all kinds of shit since we were kids. Never doubt my skills.”

Clint raised his drink in a toast to him. “I won’t. And I’m totally enlisting you next time he rejects one of my mission plans.”

“Your last ‘mission plan’ was a bid to take a quinjet on a joyride to New Orleans for beignets,” said Tony.

Clint pointed a finger at him. “Those were mission critical, morale-boosting beignets.”

Bucky had already heard this argument a couple of times, so he turned back to the parade. The next group of marchers featured an alarming amount of feathers.

It took a couple of hours for the march to pass. When the last lot had gone through, some of the crowds who had been watching hopped over the fences and joined in, following the music and noise. Bucky watched two women with their arms around each other, dancing with impressive skill despite the high-heeled boots they were both wearing.

“So, how was that?” asked Tony.

Bucky gave a bit of a shrug. How was he meant to sum up the maelstrom of emotions with actual words? It was going to take him several days to process it all.

“Colourful,” he settled on, because he had a feeling he was going to be seeing rainbow colours every time he closed his eyes for a week.

“Does that mean you’ll let me find you something that isn’t black to wear?” said Clint. “I’m sure we can get you a rainbow flag that we could style into a shirt or something - oh! No! A toga, that way it’s draped over this arm,” he said, tapping his fingers over Bucky’s metal wrist for a moment, “so you’re not immediately recognised by the world and his wife. Wait, should that be the world and his husband today? I think it should.”

“Maybe the world and _her_ wife?” said the pink-haired woman behind him. “It’s Mother Earth, right?”

Clint clicked his fingers. “Yes, right, good point.”

Bucky shook his head. “I’m not wearing anything that could limit my movement,” he said, firmly.

Clint sighed. “I tried,” he said to the woman.

She gave Bucky a careful look. “A feather boa wouldn’t limit movement,” she said. “You can borrow mine?”

“No, thank you, I’m fine,” said Bucky. He held up his wrist. “I’ve got a bracelet.”

That made Clint and the woman both give him the same long-suffering look, which Bucky resolutely ignored.

“It’s his first Pride,” said Clint. “Maybe next year we’ll work him up to a belt, or a shirt with a slogan, or something.”

“Your first Pride?” said the woman. “Oh, mazel tov,” she said, raising her drink.

“I can still remember my first Pride,” said George. “Gosh, that was a long time ago. I couldn’t take my eyes off the drag queens.”

“You still can’t,” growled the bearded guy.

George rolled his eyes and leaned down to kiss him. “Don’t worry, honey, you’re still my favourite.” He pulled away to stand up and clapped his hands. Bucky’s attention was drawn to a glint of metal and he realised he was wearing a wedding ring. “Okay, another round of drinks, I think. What do people want?”

Bucky glanced at the bearded guy’s hand and realised he was wearing a ring as well. He’d known that was legal, he’d seen photos of it online, but somehow seeing it in person was a different thing. These guys had fallen in love and gotten married, and no one had been able to stop them. If these were their friends, then no one who mattered had even wanted to.

If Bucky wanted, he was going to be able to get married, and not just as a sham or a way to maintain a cover over who he really was, but because he was in love and wanted to spend the rest of his life with someone.

Shit, he was going to tear up, he needed to roll all this emotion back until he was home in the privacy of his own room.

“I need the bathroom,” he said, getting up and gesturing at Clint to pull his chair in further so that he could get by.

“Downstairs on the left,” said George. “Now, are you sure I can’t get you some punch for when you get back?”

Bucky hesitated, and that was apparently enough for Clint.

“He’ll have the purple one too,” he said.

“No,” growled Bucky, because he was damned if he was going to stain his mouth with Clint’s signature colour. “I’ll have red.”

He headed downstairs to find that it had got even more packed, but most people were still sober enough for his _I will fuck you up_ glare to clear him a path to the bathroom. He took a few minutes to lock some of his emotions back down, splashing cold water on his face to ground him a bit. He was the god-damned Winter Soldier, he wasn’t going to crumble apart just because of some equality and acceptance.

When he got back up to the balcony, everyone had fresh drinks and Tony and Clint had moved their chairs to join the group.

“Yo, here!” Clint gestured to Bucky and the empty seat next to him, which had a ruby red drink in front of it. Oh man, there was not just an umbrella and a flag in it, but a cherry on a stick as well.

He sat down and gave it a long stare, wondering if he was really going to do this.

“A cherry for your cherry,” said George, putting a bowl of chips in the middle of the table, which was a good call. It looked like several of these people could do with something lining their stomachs before they drank much more.

Right. Time to embrace the spirit of this thing. Bucky picked up the drink and took a cautious sip.

Okay, that tasted awesome. He glanced over at Clint, who grinned at him and raised his own vibrantly purple drink. “Congratulations on learning to live a little,” he said. “We’ll get you doing rainbow jello shots by the end of the day.”

Over Bucky’s dead body.

****

They stayed at the cafe for another hour or so while Tony and Clint made friends with everyone around the table in the way that they both always seemed to find so easy, and Bucky did his level best not to terrify anyone. He had another glass of punch after the first but went back to beer after that, hoping it would wash away some of the colour staining his tongue.

He lost count of how many purple drinks Clint had, but he didn’t seem to be getting wasted. Instead, he just bounced with the same enthusiasm he’d had all day, joy glowing out of him. Bucky did his best not to stare too obviously, but that wasn’t always easy. The guy still hadn’t put his shirt back on, after all.

Bucky wasn’t the only one staring. At least three of the other guys around the table were also sincerely appreciating the effect that decades of serious archery practice had on shoulder muscles. Bucky could feel his jealous streak rising up every time one of them got caught on the flex of Clint’s biceps or traced over the lines of his chest with their eyes, but he forced it back down as much as he could. Clint wasn’t Bucky’s to lay claim to and if he had a problem with being ogled, he wouldn’t have taken his shirt off in the first place.

Besides, it kinda seemed against the spirit of the day to glare at a guy for checking out another guy.

Not that it was that easy for Bucky to control his emotions. When the guy next to Clint put a hand on his thigh, leaning in to mutter something that made Clint burst into laughter, Bucky had to clench his hand into a fist under the table, and when, a few minutes later, the guy leaned in again, quirked an eyebrow at Clint, and proceeded to kiss him, he had to look away, clenching his jaw and reminding himself that it didn’t mean anything.

It didn’t, right? Clint was just messing about because he could, not actively looking for a boyfriend.

Shit, what if Clint ended up getting together with some asshole today, bringing him back to the Tower for the night, and then keeping him around? What if some other guy was the one he had movie nights with, or started hanging out in the range with, and Bucky got left on the outside without even their friendship to cling to when he got hit by a wave of affection and want?

Tony caught his eye and raised an amused eyebrow that said he saw way too much. Bucky felt absolutely no guilt about hitting him with a glare that combined all the ones he’d been stifling.

Tony just looked even more amused. “Okay, Grumpycat, pick up your drink and look happy, I told Steve I’d send him a photo of you being all out and proud.”

“What does he care?” asked Bucky, obediently picking up his beer as Tony pulled out his phone and fiddled with the settings.

“Are you kidding?” asked Tony. “Captain ‘I’ll tear the world apart to make Bucky feel better’ America? You think he’s not bursting with pride that his boy’s all grown up and celebrating who he is?”

He took a couple of photos while Bucky tried to work out if there had been a dig in there or not, then was distracted by sudden weight on his shoulders.

“Love is love!” cheered Clint, right in his ear, holding up the hand that wasn’t wrapped around Bucky’s neck in a peace sign. “Whoo!”

“Jesus,” muttered Bucky, trying to sound pissed rather than overwhelmed by having Clint draped over him.

“Tell Cap we’re taking good care of him,” said Clint, squeezing Bucky in a rough hug for a moment and then, just as suddenly, he was gone. He stood up, announced he was going to the bathroom and ruffled a hand through Bucky’s hair as he left.

“Okay,” said Tony, watching him go, “it’s possible we let our archer get drunk. Think that’s gonna backfire?”

Bucky shook out his shoulders. “Depends on if Natasha finds out.”

“Oh god, I’m a dead man,” said Tony with a wince.

“Yup,” said Bucky, with satisfaction.

Clint didn’t come back from the bathroom for long enough to make Bucky’s instincts start to ping. Jesus, if anyone was going to get themselves kidnapped at Pride, it would be Clint, and he’d been a bit drunk and did he even have any weapons on him? If he did, Bucky wasn’t sure he wanted to know where he was hiding them.

He shifted in his seat, told himself that it had only been ten minutes and there was no need to worry yet. Even unarmed, trying to kidnap Clint wouldn’t be easy, and he’d make enough noise for someone to notice, especially in this crowd. There was nothing in the surge of noise around them to indicate anything other than a street full of people having a good time.

At fifteen minutes, he couldn’t stay still any longer. No way the line for the bathroom was that long. He got up and strode over to the edge of the mezzanine, ignoring Tony’s look.

Looking down at the mass of moving bodies below, it took Bucky a few moments to spot Clint. He was leaning against the wall, head tipped back as he talked to some guy in a leather vest and not much else. As Bucky watched, Clint straightened up and kissed the guy and, yeah, apparently that was going to keep happening. Maybe Bucky should find a way to stop his heart hurting every time it did.

Clint must have felt Bucky’s eyes on him because when he pulled away from the guy, he looked straight up at him. Bucky gave him a half-wave of his fingers to acknowledge that he was being a creepy fuck, then turned away to give him some privacy.

He’d expected Clint to stay gone for a bit, but he was back almost immediately. “Okay, Tony, what’s the plan?” he asked. “Shall we take our boy out onto the town and find an afterparty?”

“Fuck no,” said Bucky, because he knew what people these days called a party and he wasn’t getting stuck in a room crammed with people, throbbing bass and flashing lights. “And I ain’t your boy.”

“You’re definitely not _my_ boy,” agreed Tony, with a knowing smirk that meant he’d worked way too much out. He finished his drink and stood up. “C’mon, let’s wander the streets and see what trouble we can find. Don’t give me that look, Robocop, no parties, but there’s bound to be live music somewhere.”

“According to all sources, the street’s the place to go,” agreed Clint, doing a little dance that made his hips sway.

Christ, was he trying to kill Bucky?

Tony fixed Clint with a long look. “Seriously, Hawkeye?”

Clint beamed at him. “‘Cause tonight for the first time,” he started singing, and Bucky realised he was missing out on some kind of musical reference. An apparently well known one, because the rest of the table joined in with the next line.

“At just about half past ten!”

Tony made a choked noise and started heading down the stairs. Bucky glanced at Clint, who was still dancing, and wondered if he should follow suit. If Tony Stark thought that escape was the best plan, then it probably was. 

Clint beamed and pointed a finger at him, and Bucky found himself locked in place by the look in his eyes. “For the first time in history, it’s gonna start raining men!”

Damn, Bucky should have followed his instincts. He chased after Tony, leaving the rest of the balcony to belt out what sounded like the chorus.

****

The crowds had dissipated but the streets were still busy with people having a good time. Tony was paused outside, playing on his phone again and apparently not aware that people were trying to stealthily take photos of him.

“Birdboy on his way, or do you think we’ve lost him to the nearest Gay Men’s Chorus?” he asked without glancing up from his phone.

Bucky shrugged. “What the hell was that?”

“That, my friend, was the music of your people,” said Tony, finally looking up. “Not my people, notice, bi people have historically had much better taste in music, I hold David Bowie up as an example.”

“I have no idea who that is,” said Bucky.

Tony sighed. “Oh man, who’s in charge of catching you up on the last few decades of awesome music? They are falling down on the job.”

Bucky shrugged. “No one, really. Steve lets me know if he finds something he likes on one of those endless lists he’s been making.”

“Okay, no, no way, that’s not happening,” said Tony. “That’s basically the blind leading the blind.” He started tapping furiously at his phone. “I’m gonna set you up with some playlists, they’re going to be awesome and wide-ranging, and one of them is going to be the disco classics that any self-respecting gay man should be aware of.”

Great, just what Bucky needed. More homework on modern life.

Clint came bursting out of the cafe with a whoop, raised his arms with excitement when he saw Bucky and Tony waiting for him, and bounded over like a puppy on speed. For a moment Bucky thought he was going to keep going until he hit Bucky and he’d get an armful of drunk, semi-naked archer, but Clint pulled himself to a stop just before that. Bucky crushed his disappointment and told himself that was a good thing.

“Okay, just how drunk are you?” asked Tony.

“Not much,” said Clint. “I’m just having a good time. It looks a lot like drunk, sure, but I swear my judgement isn’t impaired, officer.”

Tony eyed him suspiciously. “Your entire mouth has been dyed purple.”

“I know, isn’t it cool?” said Clint, sticking his purple tongue out at them.

The guy was going to kill him. Bucky crossed his arms and put on a glare to hide his true feelings. “Where are we going?”

Tony shrugged, glancing both ways down the street. “Well, the party looks like it’s in that direction.”

Clint slung an arm around Bucky’s shoulders, because apparently Bucky hadn’t suffered enough in his life. “That’s our course, then. We are where the party is at, am I right, Buckybobo?”

“Don’t call me that,” gritted Bucky, not throwing him off. He shifted his stance so that they were pressed closer together. Just to make it easier to stand, of course, not because there was all this bare skin that he really wanted to get close to.

Tony looked at him, then at Clint. “Yeah, okay, you guys are where the party’s at. I have to get back.” He waggled his phone. “Totally important Pepper-related emergency, no way I can stay out, please don’t beg me, that’d just be embarrassing for everyone.”

“We weren’t going to beg you,” said Bucky.

Clint nodded. “We’d never get in the way of a man getting laid. I mean, I’m guessing that’s what the emergency is.”

“Right,” said Tony. “Sure. I’m leaving in the noble cause of someone getting laid. Maybe multiple people, we’ll see how it goes.” For some reason he was giving Clint a meaningful look. Bucky glanced at Clint to see him looking just as confused by that as Bucky was. “Okay, well, not sure how much more I can do here,” muttered Tony. “You kids have fun now, you hear?”

“Always,” said Clint.

Bucky shrugged the shoulder Clint’s weight wasn’t keeping pressed down. “Occasionally.”

Tony gave him a despairing look, then headed off, already pressing his phone to his ear. Bucky looked expectantly at Clint. “What’s next?”

Clint shrugged. “I guess Tony was right, there will be more going on down there,” he said. “Stalls and shit. Ooh, if we’re lucky there’ll be hot dogs.” His eyes lit up. “Or pizza!”

There was pizza. They bought a couple of slices each and then settled on the pavement to eat it, backs against a wall.

There was a bunch of different stalls, not just food and drink but various associations and charities as well. Clint pointed out the nearest few to Bucky, explaining their background. Bucky nodded along, eating his pizza and trying not to feel overwhelmed by just how much history there was to this community. If he’d known this was all coming when he’d been a kid, he’d have spent a whole lot less time choking down the rage at how unfair it was that he wasn’t like all the other guys.

Of course, he’d have also assumed that it wouldn’t happen until he was an old man, because who would have foreseen seventy years in and out of cryogenic stasis?

Maybe that had all been worth it to actually see this.

Nah, no way. Nothing was worth the hell of those years, but this certainly came close to compensating.

Clint finished his pizza, balled up the napkin he’d been holding it with, and threw it right into the nearest trash can. “Nothing but net,” he said, giving Bucky a smug grin.

Yeah, that was the other thing that came close to compensating. Even if they were just friends and Bucky didn’t have a hope, having Clint in his life was right up near the top of the list of good things Bucky had in his life now.

He saw that guy with the ridiculous feathered hat go past, arm wrapped around another guy who had somehow managed to keep his shirt on. Clint turned his head to watch them go, smiling to himself.

Bucky nudged his knee. “You feeling the urge to get off with any other random guys? Should we be finding you a new pool of candidates?”

Clint snorted. “Nah, I’m good for now,” he said. “I feel like I’ve hit my Pride quota, made my feelings on the hotness of dudes very clear to the world.”

“Oh, so you were making a point,” said Bucky. “I just figured Tony was right when he said you were kinda slutty.”

Clint shrugged. “Well, I mean, there’s that too, but it’s Pride, y’know? If I can’t get off with every hot guy who gives me a second look today, when can I?” He paused and looked down at his hands. “It’s easy here and now, but it’s not everywhere, and it wasn’t always. Growing up in the midwest, with my dad… I figured if he ever found out about me being gay, he’d beat me to death. And even if he didn’t, the rest of the community weren’t going to be throwing me a party, not like this.

“There’s still plenty of kids growing up like that. But I got out, and got to a place where I can kiss all the guys I want. Seems rude not to just go for it. And it’s kinda the point of the whole thing; getting to kiss whoever you want. Might as well take advantage. As long as everyone’s up for it, of course, consent is sexy.”

He raised an eyebrow at Bucky. “You know, even with you dressed down and being all scowly, there’s still a heap of guys today who’da been up for it if you wanted to get in some making out.”

Bucky looked back over the people wandering past, noting the ones that glanced over at him and Clint and categorising how many of them lingered on Clint, and how many on him. He wasn’t blind, he knew he’d attracted his fair share of attention today. He just hadn’t attracted it from the one guy he was interested in getting it from.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’m so much for kissing strangers,” he said.

“Fair enough,” said Clint. “Kiss whoever you want, or kiss no one if that’s what you want. Just, this is kind of a golden opportunity for public displays of gayness.” He caught the eye of a guy going past in some kind of weird leather harness, and tipped him a wink.

“Public displays of gayness,” repeated Bucky. “Yeah, okay.” He paused then, unable to keep in the words even with the fear that he was fucking everything up creeping along his spine, added, “Of course, not everyone here’s a stranger.”

Clint glanced over at him, eyes going wide, then he burst into a grin. “Bucky Barnes, are you suggesting you want to make out with me on a sidewalk in the middle of Pride?”

Every muscle was tense with anticipation of rejection. Bucky managed a shrug. “Yeah, I guess I am. Do I need to be wearing a stupid hat for that, or-?”

“Oh no, you’re perfect as you are,” said Clint, putting a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and pulling him in.

Bucky went with it, sliding an arm around Clint’s shoulders and finally getting to feel the warmth of his skin over the solid bulk of his muscles as their mouths pressed together.

He’d intended to keep it light but Clint wasn’t having any of that. He opened his mouth to Bucky’s and kissed him with passionate thoroughness, tongue taking charge so that Bucky lost all track of what was going on around him. Jesus, he was kissing Clint Barton, he was actually kissing the guy he’d been crushing on for months. It was so much better than he’d ever imagined.

“You know,” said a voice somewhere overhead, “if you’re going to lie to the press about being single, maybe don’t kiss your boyfriend in public just a couple of hours later?”

Clint pulled away and Bucky let him go, because he didn’t know where he could push without upsetting this whole thing and, besides, Clint had been right earlier. Consent was sexy.

That didn’t mean that he didn’t immediately miss him, of course.

Marissa was standing over them, looking a lot more tired and less put together than she had this morning.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” said Clint.

She raised a sceptical eyebrow. “Right. Because he wasn’t looking at you with his heart in his eyes this morning, or making out with you like the world’s about to end just now.” A faint frown crossed her face as she realised who she was talking to. “The world’s not about to end, is it?”

“Not that anyone’s told me,” said Clint, then glanced at Bucky. “Heart in his eyes?”

Bucky put on his very best poker face, and added in a hint of glare.

“Oh yeah,” said Marissa. “I mean, up until you took your shirt off, then there was another part of his anatomy in his eyes. Are you really going to sit there and tell me you’re not dating?”

Clint’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. Bucky did his very best not to follow it with his eyes, but failed. Clint blinked at him. “You know,” he said, slowly, “I think that’s kinda up to Bucky. What do you say?”

Bucky just stared back at him for a long moment, not quite sure he was getting this right. Was Clint actually asking him out?

A couple of heartbeats passed and Clint started to look a little nervous, and Bucky realised he was being a dick and needed to answer.

“Uh, sure,” he said. “I mean, if you want.” Oh man, that was terrible. Was that really the best he could do when presented with a chance like this, one he never thought he’d ever get? “That is,” he took a deep breath, pulled himself together, and leaned forward again so that he was only a few inches from Clint, “I would love to date you.”

Clint beamed and Bucky couldn’t keep from kissing him again, not quite sure how this had happened. Had it really been that easy? Why the hell hadn’t he made a move earlier?

When they separated, Clint turned and fixed Marissa with a grin. “Guess I’m not single any more. In my defence, I definitely was this morning.”

She laughed. “Okay, well, I guess congrats then. It figures that the one time I get a vaguely interesting interview at something like this, it’s already out of date before the evening news.”

“Sorry,” Clint said, without much repentance. His hand nudged against Bucky’s, then he slid their fingers together. Bucky took hold in return, letting a smile bloom on his face.

Marissa made a face. “And you’re still not up for talking to me?” she said to Bucky, half-heartedly.

Bucky opened his mouth to say no, then had a flash of memory, of sitting on the sidewalk in Brooklyn like this when he was a teenager, watching a gang of other boys playing softball and trying to keep his eyes from straying to Hank O’Connor because they’d all beat him up if they knew.

 _There’s still plenty of kids growing up like that,_ Clint had said. Bucky knew just how hard and isolating that could be.

“Yeah, why not?” he said, dragging himself to his feet. 

Her whole face lit up. “Oh! Oh great! Just...hang there, one second, I just need…” She dashed off towards a stall. “GARY! GARY, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!!”

Bucky could see the cameraman turning to her, one hand clutching a hot dog and his camera at his feet. He didn’t look very pleased at being interrupted.

“Are you sure about this?” asked Clint, standing up as well. “I know you kinda hate the media shit.”

Bucky shrugged. “Yeah, so, I do this, I get to skip out on the next round of interviews when we fuck something up, right? Besides, I’ve got something to say.”

It took Marissa a minute or two to get Gary to abandon his hotdog, and then a couple more to tidy her hair and fix her make-up. Bucky pushed up his sleeves slightly so that the wristband Clint had given him was on show and worked out exactly what he was going to say.

“So, Bucky Barnes, is this your first Pride? How have you been enjoying it?” asked Marissa, once they were all set and Gary had the camera rolling.

Bucky shifted his weight on his feet and made himself look directly at the camera. “It’s been great. Something I never could have imagined when I was growing up." He could stop talking there, let her ask a couple more soft questions and then wrap up, or he could dig deep and let out the thoughts that had been on the tip of his tongue all day. If he was going to talk to the media, he might as well tell them something worth saying, right? "I can’t remember when I first knew I was gay, but I do remember the first time I realised that it meant I was going to have to hide for my whole life. I was 19, maybe 20, and I’d been seeing a guy for a few months. I thought I was in love, and I think he did too, but it was all sneaking around in the dark. No one knew about us, not even Steve, and we never spent any time together in public, so when he got married, no one was all that surprised that I didn’t go to his wedding.”

He paused, remembering how that had felt, to hear through the grapevine that the guy he loved was marrying some girl he’d never even met.

“I confronted him about it, asked what he thought he was doing, marrying some dame when I thought we were in love, and he just laughed at me. He asked me what the hell I thought was going to happen, how we were going to survive if we didn’t find women to pretend to be in love with.

“I guess I’d never really thought about it until then. Sure, I flirted with girls, took them out dancing, but never the same girl twice. I didn’t want to lead them on like that, but he was as good as saying I had to, and I realised he was right.” He took a deep breath, the same way he had seventy years ago when the realisation had hit him. “I was going to have to spend my whole life lying to everyone around me, maintaining this charade that I was just like everyone else.”

He paused, then shook his head.

“But my life didn’t turn out like that, and now I get to stand here, in the centre of a party celebrating exactly that part of me that I thought was gonna have to stay a secret forever. Me and Steve get asked about the best parts of modern life a lot, and I always think it’s a bullshit question because, hell, people are still people, it’s just the technology that’s got fancy, but this-” he waved a vague hand around, taking in the flags and the glitter and the hotdog stall, “this is incredible. This wins, hands down, as the best damn thing about having skipped over all those decades and wound up here.”

Second best thing, but he wasn’t going to give himself away by looking over at Clint, who was hovering just off camera.

“So, yeah, this is my first Pride, and it’s been a fucking revelation.”

Marissa blinked at him. “Wow, okay. Thank you for being so candid, that was great.” She glanced at Clint, who gave her a half-shake of his head. “I hope you have a great time for the rest of the day.”

Gary turned off the camera and Clint walked over to drape an arm around Bucky. “No sneaking around in the dark with me,” he promised, and kissed him.

Bucky kissed him back with all the pent-up frustration that had been brought to the surface by talking about Roddie.

“Of course,” added Marissa, ignoring that they were deep in a passionate kiss, “it would have been better without the swearing. We’ll have to edit that out.”

Bucky pulled away from Clint in order to say, “Sorry, not fucking sorry.”

Clint laughed. “And you claim not to know anything about modern life.” He slapped a hand against Bucky’s chest. “C’mon, let’s go back to the Tower. You can help me try and get some of this glitter off.”

Bucky snorted. “No way, you’re gonna have to climb that mountain on your own.”

Marissa cleared her throat. “You realise that you’re covered in it too now, right?”

Bucky glanced down at himself and realised that Clint’s purple glitter had travelled, and now was all over his shirt and hands. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he said, trying to wipe it off. “How the hell am I gonna get this out of my arm?” Getting sand out of all the plates was enough of a bitch, he was willing to bet glitter was even worse.

“It’s on your neck as well,” said Clint, cheerfully. “You’re starting to look like a guy at Pride should.”

“Fuck,” muttered Bucky, giving up on trying to get rid of it in favour of glaring at him. “That’s it, we’re heading back.”

Clint’s grin only grew wider. “We should share a shower,” he said as they set off back down the street. “Help each other get clean. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”

“Is it?” asked Bucky. “Cause, if we’re going to put that much effort into getting clean, maybe we should get ourselves a bit dirtier first?”

The women in front of them were holding hands. He watched them for a moment, then summoned up his courage and reached out to loop an arm about Clint’s shoulders. He was already smothered in glitter after all, no point in trying to keep his distance now.

Clint slung his arm around Bucky’s waist in return. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard since hotdog pizza tacos.”

“Hotdog pizza tacos were a terrible idea,” said Bucky. “We agreed never to mention them again.”

“You agreed. I never made any promises,” said Clint. He was still grinning at Bucky, all easy and relaxed, as if this was making him just as happy as it was making Bucky. On top of being able to just walk down the street with an arm around him as if it was nothing, it was all too much for Bucky to concentrate on all the ways that the hotdog pizza tacos had destroyed his faith in modern cuisine. 

Instead, he leaned in and kissed Clint, because apparently he was allowed to do that whenever he felt like it now.

Clint was still grinning when he pulled away, but there was a softer edge to it. “Happy Pride.”

“Happy Pride,” Bucky replied.


End file.
